![]() “I don’t want anybody to feel excluded,” he adds. It was everything you needed it to be at the time. “What genre of music did Prince make? I’m not comparing myself to Prince-he is a god among humans. “When people ask me what genre I make, I’m like, dude, I don’t know,” he says. He will say, however, that making it made him realize why he’s pursued music as a career: because he loves it, and because it provides a space for those who might feel alone or misunderstood. I’m just my mama’s son.”ĭawson is hesitant to share the personal revelations he experienced while working on Chaos Now*, because he hopes his listeners will take away from it whatever they need at that very moment. “I have to allow them to form their own ideas of it. ![]() tour-was made for those who might not fit in a societally accepted box. But his record-the release of which coincides with the start of a U.S. The genre-less aspect of Dawson’s sound has left the industry scratching its head, grasping for an artist to compare him to, in hopes of making him easy to understand. Oh, and there’s a sprinkling of country and classical elements in there, too. The emotions and ruminations of his real life are the source of his music, which recalls the pop-punk guitar riffs of Blink-182, the vocals of emo bands like Brand New, the emotional prose of The Shins or Fleet Foxes, and heavy drums mixed with bars and beats that could easily be interchanged with a radio-friendly rap song. I was just saying words.”ĭawson embraced mess as part of his process-one which he refers to as similar to method acting. The artist says he completely scrapped two previous versions-one, because it resembled an EP (“I really hate EPs,” he tells me over Zoom, “like, vehemently hate EPs,”) and the other, because it wasn’t “profound enough. The result is Chaos Now*, a record that explodes with Dawson’s hard-to-pin-down sound and the ebullient energy of his personality. My significant other would see me in my room and be like, ‘Hey, do I have to call your mom? Cuz you look like you’re losing your mind.’” “You know those movies where a dude is trying to figure out a crime and they have pieces of yarn connected to pins on the wall? It was essentially that, with drawings and guitar progressions written out and shit. “You should have seen it, the room looked crazy,” he tells me. The musician Jean Dawson spent months in his bedroom in Inglewood, California, chain-smoking cigarettes and ripping his hair out, trying to figure out what was wrong with his latest album.
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